


Plus One

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Black Cards, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Other, Polyamory, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Plus One

Bebe meets Mikey after a club show in New York. It's a show they absolutely do not need to do, that serves no purpose besides making Pete marginally less bored. A less-bored Pete and a chance to be onstage are good enough for Bebe any night.

Mikey gets her attention when they're mid-song and Pete almost drops his microphone. She follows his gaze across the room and sees nothing worth getting excited about: a skinny blond guy in hipster glasses. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting one of those in New York.

"Shit," Pete mutters, and lifts his mic, but the guy shakes his head slightly and Pete stumbles into a song intro instead. That gets Bebe's interest, but her set comes first, so she does her best to ignore Blondie until the end.

It throws Pete off completely, though. He's useless. Bebe would smack him if she thought it would do any good, but usually it just gets him more wound up. The best she can do is glare and plan to make fun of him with Spencer later.

Blondie watches the set with a little smile, hands in his jacket pockets. Bebe wonders if he's a friend of Gabe's--that would fit with the bored-casual stance, the locale, and a little bit of Pete's fluster. He has all kinds of complexes about not being as...whatever as Gabe. Cool. Tall. Rooted in himself. Bebe doesn't really get it.

At any rate, Pete hustles off the stage with her and Spencer instead of doing the rest of his DJ set. "Pete, what are you--"

He ignores her in favor of grabbing Marcus by the arm and attempting to twirl him around. It's like a squirrel trying to twirl the tree. "Dude. Mikey's here."

"Cool." Marcus actually smiles, which is unusual for Pete having a stupid post-set idea.

"Go get him and bring him back, okay? Shit. He didn't text me, the fucker. Just bam, surprise Mikeyway." Pete heads for the dressing room, shedding his jacket as he goes. "He doesn't even live here anymore."

"Who is that guy?" Bebe asks, raking her hair up off her neck and back off her forehead. It's a heavy, sweaty, tangled mess. She envies Pete his crop after shows. "Mikey who?"

"Not Mikey Who. Mikey Way. He plays bass in My Chemical Romance. He's a friend of mine. I've told you about him." Pete bounces on his toes, grinning wide and big. "Shit, I haven't seen him in ages."

"I don't call, I don't write," comes a voice from the door. "I pretty much suck, it's true."

In person, Mikey Way is just as skinny and blond as he was across the room, but definitely older than she thought in the club lights. There are lines around his eyes and shadows under them, and stubble from his sideburns to his jaw. He's dressed all in black, which works for him--as he and Pete rock back and forth in a hug, Bebe notes how his jeans cling to his ass and amends that to working for him very well _indeed_. The unofficial policy is not to act starstruck or weird around Pete's friends, but he's never said anything against ogling.

"Mikey," Pete says when he finally lets go and steps back, "this is Bebe. I told you about her. She's great."

Mikey turns to face her. "She is."

Pete leans against Mikey's shoulder while Bebe shakes Mikey's hand, and keeps talking before she can manage to say hi. "Better than Gerard."

"Shush." Mikey flicks his hair out of his eyes and smiles. "Very nice to meet you. You were amazing."

"Thank you." She returns the smile and drops back a step, letting Pete have the space he obviously wants. "So you're Seattle Mikey Way." He cocks his head, brow furrowing, and she laughs. "Oh, we had a show in Seattle the same night as you guys. Last spring? Pete was all..." She waves her hands. "You know."

"Oh, yeah! Yeah." He laughs and shoves his hands in his pockets, shooting Pete a fond look. "Yeah. That's me."

Pete grabs Mikey's sleeve and pulls him over to the snack table, talking a mile a minute about...something. Bebe can't really hear him over the metaphorical door slamming in her face. Pete's actually keeping himself between her and Mikey, like he's ready to body-check either of them at a moment's notice. He's so damn weird.

Mikey keeps glancing at her, though, shooting amused looks and wry smiles over Pete's head every few minutes. She gets a nose-wrinkle and eye-roll at one point, which makes her grin like they've shared an inside joke at Pete's expense.

"Sushi," Pete says urgently, snapping her out of her momentary glow. "Mikey. Let's go find sushi. C'mon."

Mikey nods and bumps his glasses up on his nose. "You want to come with us, Bebe?"

"The car'll be here for her any minute," Pete says, a little sharply. Mikey's eyebrows go up and Bebe feels a hot rush to her face. Always fun being treated like an unwanted little sister.

"It was nice to meet you," she says stiffly, grabbing her own coat. "Have a good night."

Mikey gives her an unreadable look that she holds as long as she can before turning and hurrying out the door. Sometimes she remembers all at once that she's new to this, and it stings.

**

Her phone rings the next morning while she's sitting in her pajamas in front of Netflix streaming _How I Met Your Mother_. She has cold pizza and a Diet Coke and she's not working out today, the world can go fuck itself.

She is answering her phone, though, even when it's a number she doesn't recognize. "Hello?"

"Bebe? Hey. Hi. This is Mikey. Mikey Way? We met last night?"

She drops her pizza face-down on her mom's sofa, her hand going up to the frizzy mess of her hair even though he's on the other end of the phone. "Oh! Wow, hi."

"I took your number off Pete's phone while he was in the bathroom. I hope that's not weird."

It is weird, but that's okay. "How are you? How was your sushi?"

"We ended up having tacos, actually. It was good. Nice to have a chance to catch up."

"Awesome." She drags her fingernail against the polish on her big toe, staring down at her feet like they can somehow make this call make sense. "I'm glad you guys had fun."

"You're probably wondering why I called." He laughs a little, and she smiles against the phone, hugging it between her shoulder and her cheek. He has a cute laugh. "Well, Pete was pretty rude last night, so I was wondering if I could get you lunch? Make up for that, kinda."

"Lunch?" Her hand goes to her hair again. "I'll...I'll need some time to get ready."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely. No worries. I'll find a place and text you where?"

"That sounds great. Thanks so much, you don't have to do that, you know. I'm used to Pete."

He laughs again. "Really? You'll have to tell me the trick to that."

"Yeah, well. As used to him as you can be."

"There you go. I'll text you soon. Don't forget to save my number!"

"Will do!" She hangs up and grins at her phone, tapping the screen to lock that number in tight under _Seattle_. That way Pete won't find it when he borrows her phone to set up weird pictures as her background or change all of her setting to Cyrillic.

She's having lunch with a hot guy her faux-big-brother doesn't want her to hang out with. Her life is an '80s comedy and it fucking rocks.

**

Mikey gets them a table at a cute little bistro, where they serve tea in mismatched mugs and the menu is printed in collage, which is both visually stunning and completely impossible to read.

Mikey blinks at it slowly and takes a sip of his tea, which is in a blue mug printed with sheep. "I'll have the special."

"Me too," Bebe says. Her mug is yellow, with a picture of a fat, disgruntled cat and a chip in the rim. "And could I get water instead, please?"

"You're anti-tea?"

"Just not in the mood."

"Maybe you'll get another mug. A badass mug." He looks at the waitress. "Do you have a badass mug to put her water in?"

Bebe doesn't know if a commemorative Lord of the Rings mug counts as badass, but Mikey seems to think so. "That is fucking sweet," he says with what seems like complete sincerity. "You should take that with you when we're done."

"I'm not going to steal from the restaurant."

"I'm taking this one."

She looks at it, then at him. "Sheep?"

"I like sheep." He takes another sip and smiles. His teeth are crooked. It's cute, like his laugh. "I've got many layers."

"I can tell." She lets her gaze drop to the table, until his hand moves into her field of vision as he takes a packet of sugar from the holder. Light reflects off the ring on the fourth finger, and something clicks sharply in her head. _Oh_. "You're married?"

She must sound surprised, because he throws her a startled glance and withdraws his hand. "I figured Pete would have mentioned that."

"No." Fuck, she's an idiot. "No, he mostly talked about how you're really rad."

"Well. I am. But I'm also married. My wife is pretty rad, too."

"I'm sure she is." She's recovered her composure, just about; after all, it was just a bad assumption, she hadn't done anything _stupid_ yet. "Is she in the business?"

"She's...she kind of took time off to help me when I was having a rough time, and never quite got back in." He swirls his tea slowly, looking down into the mug. "Which I feel bad about and she doesn't, because she's amazing."

"Oh." The sharp veering between personal and not at all is making her dizzy. She doesn't know how to behave, and suddenly she feels young and stupid again. "Do you guys live here in the city?"

"No. LA." He smiles slightly, still looking into the mug. "Where Gerard goes, so goes my nation."

"Gerard is..."

He laughs, settling back in his chair and looking at her directly again. "Wow, Pete has told you _nothing_."

"Not really."

"And you're not a fan of my band."

She winces. "I mostly listened to classical growing up? And you guys were a little before my time."

"Ouch. _Ouch_. Shit." He laughs and rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head. "Knife in the heart, dude. Knife in the _face_."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey. It's cool. We've got food coming." He smiles and winks at her, for-real winks. It's completely stupid and completely adorable. "I can give you the Cliff's Notes version."

**

She learns a lot about Gerard, and Alicia, and Frank and Ray, not to mention professional wrestling and his opinion on local-and-seasonal cuisine. He walks her to the subway afterwards, and says they should meet up the next time she's in LA. It's one of the meaningless invitations everyone gives and gets in the industry; she fully expects to never see or hear from him again. It was a nice lunch, though.

A few weeks later she's surprised to find a text from him, saying that if she has a way to get to the Camden stop of the Honda Civic Tour, her name's on the list for admission and backstage. _No pressure. :) Just if you're free._

Her dad refuses to understand why she might want to go to New Jersey, and doesn't really trust her with the car, but she's been his little princess her whole life and eventually sweet-talks him into it.

The question of outfit is considerable; she doesn't want to look silly, or like she cares, or...whatever. She needs to look casual. Cute and professional and casual. And hot, because there might be other people there she wants to work with someday. But casual. Fuck.

She settles on an NYU t-shirt, a black miniskirt, boots, and minimal makeup, with her hair in a low, smooth ponytail to one side. She looks young, but serious. And casual. Hopefully.

Backstage at Honda Civic is a riot. Everyone's in a rush and she knows now exactly how busy they are and how much some random girl asking them to find Mikey Way won't help. She sends him a text and leans against a stack of cryptically-labeled boxes, hoping he's as glued to his phone as the rest of the guys she knows.

The answer comes almost instantly: _Awesome, stay put._ She waits, tapping her heel against the boxes in rhythm with the mix playing over the PA.

"Bebe?"

She jumps; that's not Mikey saying her name, but a dark-haired woman in chunky black glasses. She's smiling slightly, cautiously, and Bebe automatically smiles back and holds out her hand. "Yes, I'm Bebe."

"Alicia. Mikey sent me to get you." She has a strong handshake, and a pretty smile as it relaxes into something more natural. "Nice to meet you. He's told me all about you."

"We've only met twice," Bebe says without thinking. Alicia laughs.

"Good point. Mikey's the master of the snap judgment, though. He says you're great, so I'll take his word for it."

Bebe doesn't know how to respond to that. She feels like she's going to choke on her own smile. "Well, he married you, so you must be...extra-great."

Alicia laughs again. "Exactly. Smartest thing he ever did."

Bebe isn't sure if this is some kind of marking-territory thing or what. Experience tells her it should be, but that isn't the vibe she's getting at all. Mikey and Alicia are confusing.

"Let's get over to side-stage," Alicia says, nodding down the corridor. "It's a fucking great show. I'm glad you could make it."

"Me too," Bebe says, falling into step and hoping that she isn't lying.

**

It is a great show. The openers are awesome, and then My Chem comes out and blows them away. The Killjoys aesthetic is something she's both glad and sorry Pete didn't come up with in an insomnia dream, and Gerard's a frontman after her own heart. She makes a note to steal some of his moves--or go back to the sources and steal from where he's stealing from, since Alicia gives her a running commentary on every song and every bit of showmanship.

"They're having such a blast on this tour," Alicia says, grinning and resting her chin on a stack of cases. "Look at my man out there shaking his ass."

Bebe's already looking, watching Mikey strut up and down his piece of stage, striking poses and working his bass. She remembers at one of Pete's late-night studio bullshit sessions, someone--probably Spencer, and he probably got it from Gabe--going on about how _a true musician plays like he fucks_. Thinking about that makes Mikey extra distracting.

"You know," Alicia says suddenly, her eyes still on the stage, "when Mikey said you should call us next time you're in LA, he wasn't just bullshitting you. He means it. And I do, too. You should call us. We'll go out."

"I'm out there next week," Bebe says. "But he'll still be on tour."

Alicia glances at her, smiling slow and wide. "We can hang out, then. You and me. It'll be fun."

By the time MIkey comes offstage for a sweaty post-show hug, Bebe has another number in her phone and dinner plans for her first night in LA.

**

Alicia takes her to a Thai place that she swears will change Bebe's life. Bebe isn't sure she'd go that far, but it is really good, and the conversation is awesome. They talk about movies, music, makeup, fashion, and so it's no surprise that after the check comes, they go shopping.

Shoes first, then jackets, and finally a lingerie shop with the most amazing corsets Bebe has ever seen. They won't replace her SexTrash gear for stage wear, but for going out, just for herself--

"Fucking hot," Alicia says with approval when the saleswoman gets Bebe laced into an emerald-green number with silver accents and black lacing. "You have to buy it."

**

She takes it to the studio the next day to show Pete, whose fashion opinions can be trusted at least half of the time.

"That's awesome," he says, flipping the edge up so he can see the stitching. "Hot. Does it come in red? Get one in red and we'll do a photoshoot with them. Green and red, like...stop and go. Yeah."

"I'll have to ask Alicia to take me back to the shop."

Pete's eyes widen like a cartoon cat's. "Alicia?"

"Yeah. Your friend Mikey's wife. She's really awesome."

"How do you know Alicia? Did Mikey...of course he did."

"They're nice."

"They are. They're incredibly nice. They're some of the most amazing people I know."

"Then why do you sound so pissed that they might want to hang out with me?"

"Because you don't know what's going on."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. Let's lay down some tracks."

"Fuck you, Pete, explain what the hell that was supposed to mean."

"You can either get in the booth or take a walk."

She makes a very dramatic exit, but she leaves the corset lying on the couch, so after an hour of sulking at Starbucks she has to come back for it. She assumes Pete will be gone by then, off to do other mysterious Wentz things. But no; she can hear his voice from the hall through the half-open studio door.

"She's _twenty-two_." There's a pause, and a grunt of frustration. "Oh, fuck you, legal in fifty states and Canada, so fucking funny. Not my point, man, and you know it."

Bebe's breath stops in her chest and for a minute she's so mad she can't see. _Fuck_ Pete.

"Yeah? And what exactly are you going to tell her? Hey, Bebe, instead of friendship with awkward sexual tension, we can have friendship with awkward sex, because Alicia and I aren't monogamous and we both think you're totally bangable."

Now Bebe really can't breathe. This doesn't even make sense.

"I think Alicia's shit outta luck, though, man, because with those nails I don't think Bebe's into girls...oh _fuck_ you, Mikey, seriously. Goddamn it."

Bebe looks down at her nails and then carefully curls her hands into fists at her sides.

"Yeah, definitely spring the whole 'I'm really into pain' thing on her, too. Send her running for the hills and quitting my band and..." Another pause. "Yeah, of _course_ I know you both really like her as a person, she's an awesome person, she's amazing, but she's _very young_ and you guys are--I was _not_ going to use that word, dammit, Mikey--"

Bebe pushes the door open and steps into the room, forcing a horrible approximation of a smile as Pete nearly drops the phone. "Just came for my stuff. Don't let me interrupt. Tell him to forget it, actually, since big brother doesn't approve."

"Bebe--"

"At least Alicia didn't try to buy any of the stuff _for_ me. That would be really weird now. Oh, but the concert tickets. That's fucked up." She swallows and dodges away from Pete's outstretched hand. "I'm changing my flight and going home. Don't call me. I'll call you."

**

She's not really surprised to get a text from Mikey asking her to meet him at the bistro. It feels pretty good to not show up.

He doesn't contact her again. She knows he's being respectful, backing off since that's obviously what she wants. It's the right thing for him to do, in the circumstances. And it's frustrating as hell, because if he chased her, she would know how she wants to behave.

She needs more information to make up her mind, and she doesn't have anywhere to get it. It's not like she can call Pete.

Well. She does have one option.

"You said I should call you about anything I don't want to ask Pete," she says when Gabe picks up the phone. "I hope you mean it, because this is a doozy."

"Doozies are my specialty. Hit me."

"What do you know about Mikey and Alicia Way?"

There's a long pause and a weird noise that might be him coughing or choking or something. "Uh, Mikey and I go way back, I guess. Alicia is...his wife. Very hot, very funny, very protective."

"And they like to sleep with people who aren't each other."

Another long pause. "Oh, okay, this is what Pete's incoherent message was about. Huh."

"Huh is right."

"They asked you?"

"No. Not exactly. They've just been...being nice to me. And then I heard Pete saying they were just being nice to me to...I'm not a whore."

"Nobody called you one, kiddo." Gabe exhales roughly. "Look, Mikey and Alicia are good people. They're not dicks. I'll bet you all of the Beiber fans who are gonna try to touch my junk on this tour that they did not mean for you to get that idea at all and they feel pretty bad about it right now."

"So what should I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. What _should_ I do?"

"What makes you comfortable. If that's never seeing or talking to them again, that's cool. If it's letting Mikey give their point of view and _then_ never seeing or talking to them again, that's cool, too."

"And if it's...the other thing?"

"That's fucking hot as hell."

She laughs a little, twisting her hair around the fingers of her free hand. "Have you ever...?"

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Miss B, and I am a lady."

"You're a douchebag."

"See if I help you out with your polyamory problems again."

"My what?"

"Google it. I gotta go. The Beebs is calling."

**

She texts Mikey the address of a coffee shop and a time a few hours away. It's a long shot; he might already be on a plane to the other side of the country. She doesn't want a drawn-out conversation in text, though. She wants to see him face-to-face before she makes up her mind.

He shows up wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap, his hood flipped up over it. "You look like the Unabomber," she says, hunching her shoulders and holding her coffee tightly. "Hi."

"Hi." He stays a pace back from her table, staring at her unreadably from behind the glasses. "May I sit?"

"Don't you want to get coffee first?"

"I'm good, actually."

"Okay." She nods at the chair across from her and waits while he folds himself into it. "Sorry about lunch."

"Don't worry about it."

"When were you going to tell me? And...how? Just, like, getting me tipsy and putting your hand on my thigh?"

He takes a careful breath and bumps the glasses up higher on his nose. "No. It's...it's not a calculated thing. We actually aren't creepy. I mean. We try. It's...slow and natural and organic. Hopefully. When it doesn't get fucked up."

"Fucked up by Pete."

"He's...kind of a bull in a china shop. Or a bulldog in a sandwich shop. Or..." He shrugs, a sharp jerk of his shoulders. "Pete."

"He's possessive of you."

Mikey snorts softly and shakes his head, slipping the sunglasses off so he can rub the bridge of his nose. "No. He's protective of _you_."

"I don't need his protection."

"It's not a matter of needing. It's a matter of him worrying. And wanting to help. And...being Pete."

She takes a sip of her coffee as a way out of responding to that. He watches her drink, his glasses half-folded in his hand and his face not-quite expressionless; there's just enough wariness in his eyes to make something click in her head. "What's he to you guys?"

Another tiny shrug. "He's ours."

"You mean..."

"We haven't had sex with him since he started dating Ashlee. But he's still ours. You know how it is, when you have people you just..." His hand sketches vaguely through the air. "Who are just yours, no matter what."

She does know, kind of. She thinks she knows. "I don't want to hurt him."

"I talked to him already. He's okay."

"Okay-okay, or Pete-okay?"

"Bebe?" She realizes he's only actually said her name a handful of times. He says it with a little catch in the middle. "Is there any chance this could not be entirely about Pete? Maybe kinda about you and me and Alicia?"

"Yeah. Right. Of course." She tilts her head back for a minute, staring at the ceiling. When she looks at him again, he starts and blushes. "Were you just checking out my rack?"

"I'm over 30. I can't call it that."

She laughs and ducks her head, then glances up at him again. "I...really don't know what to say. Or do. Or...I mean, it's kind of a big thing to..."

"It's a lot to process." He nods and puts his hands on the table. "How about you take the time you need for that, and then when you want to and you're in LA, we can meet up and talk? All three of us. Non-creepy talking. In public or whatever. We really, really never meant to make you uncomfortable. That was the last thing we wanted. I hope you can at least kind of believe that."

"I do." She's out of coffee, but she can't possibly keep her hands still. She twists her napkin between her fingers over and over until the paper tears. "I think that's a good plan. I'll...well, I guess I'll be in touch?"

"Great." He smiles a little, crooked and awkward and fascinating in its way. "Take as long as you need."

**

She sends Pete a text, just asking him to set up some more studio time and buy her another round of plane tickets. They're going to have to sit down and talk for real, set boundaries and whatever, but not yet. For now, she'll just let him draw the conclusion that they're okay, and hope that Gabe's been talking him down. She has a lot of thinking to do.

So much thinking that she's not done before the end of that trip to LA, so she returns to New York without contacting Mikey. She looks up a few pictures and videos from the last bit of the Civic Tour, studying Mikey's body, smile, stage presence. She doesn't know what she's looking for, exactly. Just something that will make the jumble in her head make some kind of sense.

Pete books them another swing of club shows. It's a good distraction, but she keeps catching herself looking out at the shadows past the dance floor like there's going to be something there. Somebody.

"You okay, B?" Pete asks her after the last show. She glances at him in the mirror, most of her attention caught on the wreck of her hair and the zit trying to push its way through her foundation. God, she feels disgusting. She needs a haircut and a spa day and maybe a vacation.

"Fine." She twists her hair back, catching it in a clip. A half-inch chunk slips loose and flops down against her neck. Fuck it. "How are you?"

He shrugs and drinks from some expensive club-branded bottle of water. His skin is chalky under his own layer of makeup, his eyes ringed in shadows and bloodshot. If it wasn't already three in the morning she'd tell him to go call his kid and get some little-dude time to fix his equilibrium. "Tired as fuck."

"I hear you."

"How's the thing with Mikey?"

She rips the clip out of her hair and twists it again to cover her surprise. They never did have that talk; she kind of thought they were both just kind of letting it go. "There's no thing."

"Oh."

"I mean, I'm supposed to call them if I decide I want a thing, but..."

"You're not interested?"

"I don't know how to tell.

He's quiet for a minute, rolling the bottle between his palms. "Yeah. I can see that."

"It's complicated."

He nods slightly, staring in the direction of the mirror but, she's pretty sure, not seeing anything that's reflected from the room. "The thing about them is," he says after a minute, so softly she isn't sure if she's supposed to hear it at all. "The thing about _being_ with them is, they make you feel like you're the most important thing in the world." His eyes flick toward her face, but don't quite focus. "And then you have to go back to reality and it's, like...well, whatever, you know? But. While you're with them. They're...they're very good at making sure you know they want you there."

She looks down at the toes of her boots. "And it's not weird? After?"

"Of course it's weird. But not in a bad way."

She looks at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes, his gaze tense and bright with uncertainty. "And I guess threesomes are pretty punk rock."

He snorts, choking on his water, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "Oh yeah. Totally punk rock. Especially the part afterward when their goddamn dog climbs on the bed and wants to join the cuddling."

"Seriously?"

"Would I make that up?"

"I don't even know what to do with that."

"A doggystyle joke, maybe?"

"Gross." She grabs her hairbrush and hits him with it. "You're gross. Get away from me."

**

They offer to meet her at a restaurant or coffee shop or something, but she tells them their house is fine. Being alone with them is so not the part she's nervous about.

Once she's there, though, sitting with them in their cat-hair-strewn living room sipping Diet Coke and trying not to stare at the bookshelf that's holding at least twice as many DVDs as it was designed for, the nervousness starts to ebb a little. Because while Mikey and Alicia have both proven very smooth separately at courting her, or whatever they were doing, it turns out that their technique for sealing the deal is kind of semi-organized awkwardness.

"I'm so glad you called," Mikey blurts out of nowhere, right when Bebe's in the middle of a drink. She inhales the cola, the carbonation going up her nose and making her choke and gasp. He goes to put his own can on the table so he can thump her back, misses, and spills it all over one of the cats. That leads to chasing the cat around with a wadded-up t-shirt while Alicia hustles all of the other animals into the kitchen and shuts the door.

"Sorry," Mikey says, clutching the sticky cat to his chest and dabbing at it with the t-shirt. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She can breathe, anyway. And she's not holding a pissed-off cat.

"As icebreakers go, this is pretty good," Alicia says dryly, coming over to take the cat from Mikey and chuck it into the kitchen with the rest of them. Bebe winces when she hears a crash and the sound of something spilling across the floor. Alicia looks at the door for a minute, looks at Mikey, shrugs, and goes back to her chair.

"We're just going to ignore that," Mikey says, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Because investigating it can't possibly help right now."

She nods and smiles, clutching her can tightly and trying to think of something to say. "I like your house."

"Oh, thanks. Thanks. Yeah. It's...a good little place. Yeah." He looks at Alicia, then at Bebe again. "We're thinking of having it painted."

This is surreal and absurd and she kind of desperately wants to giggle. "What color?"

"I'm thinking kind of a pale orange. Like. Not _orange_ -orange, but...you know. That orangey-red."

"Like adobe," Alicia supplies.

"Yeah. Only super-pale."

She blinks at him, realizing that he is utterly serious, and she can't help it anymore. The giggle breaks loose, high-pitched and breathless and ending in a snort. She slams her can down to the table and covers her mouth with her hands, fighting to keep the sound back. Then Alicia starts laughing, too, and Mikey joins in, and the dog howls mournfully from the kitchen where she's shut away from the fun.

Before Bebe quite knows what's happening or has her self-control back, Mikey's leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. It's dry, close-lipped and angled wrong against her smile, but it sobers her up in an instant.

"Hi," he says softly, pulling back less than an inch.

"Hi." She licks her lips and glances at Alicia, then closes her eyes and leans to meet him again. It's a slow kiss, cautious and shallow, but when they break apart again they're both smiling.

"What are you comfortable with?" Mikey asks, turning his head so his breath ghosts against her cheek. "You want to stay out here and make out? You want to watch me and Alicia? You want to kiss her too? Or instead?"

"Slow down, Way," Alicia murmurs from her chair.

"The only rule is if you're not comfortable, tell us," Mikey says. "Everybody should be comfortable and having a good time."

"That and don't touch Mikey's knees," Alicia adds. "They're crazy ticklish and he'll kick."

Mikey lifts his head and glares at her. "You are wrecking my mojo, lady."

"Whatever."

"Ignore her." Mikey kisses Bebe again, more deeply this time, drawn-out exploration of her mouth. She relaxes into him, finding his hand with hers and threading their fingers together. Alicia makes a soft noise of approval and this time Bebe breaks the kiss, turning her head and blinking at Alicia.

"It's cool?"

"Very cool." Alicia smiles at them and tucks her hair back behind her ears. "Looks like this time you want to try him out. That's good. I'll watch."

"Unless you're not comfortable with being watched," Mikey adds. "Because again, only rule."

"She gets it, Mikey, Jesus."

"Is this what it's always like when you bring somebody new in?" Bebe asks, rubbing her hands on her thighs to keep from placing one firmly over Mikey's mouth.

They look at each other, Mikey's eyebrows quirking up slightly. "More or less," he finally says.

"Okay." It all makes sense now, really. Just like in the studio, if anyone's going to get everyone down to business and keep things moving along, it's going to be her.

**

They don't go farther than the couch that day, Mikey's weight pressing her down against the cushions, his hands moving warm and steady--and fucking big; bassist hands are awesome, it turns out--over her arms and up under her shirt. He's gentle and extremely focused, like making out with a girl is the kind of thing that requires as much attention as defusing a bomb or beating a really complicated level of a video game.

When she goes to leave, sweaty and flushed and stupidly turned on for someone who threw the brakes on the operation and said she needed to get to the studio, they both walk her to the door. Alicia's smiling like she did when Bebe tried on the corset. Mikey is holding one hand over his crotch like that's actually going to distract from his erection.

"I'll probably be back in a few weeks," Bebe says at the door. "I think Pete's been booking us random shows again. He gets bored and makes Nadine call people."

"We'll see you then?" Mikey asks, leaning his head against the doorframe. His hair's sticking up in funny little clumps. He kind of looks like an owl. "Or did we totally freak you out, or do I suck at kissing, or...you don't have to answer that."

"You're being weird." Alicia smacks him on the ass and he jumps, his head thumping off the wood. "Stop it."

Bebe smiles and steps off the porch, wondering if her cab will even make it to the end of the block before the two of them are fucking. "I'll call you. Definitely."

**

She spends her time back in New York trying not to think about them and failing miserably. The problem isn't that she doesn't know what she wants--she _knows_ , she has it all playing out in her head as a super-distracting dirty movie that doesn't let her get anything done. The problem is that she doesn't know how to go about any of it.

She hides in the studio because that's one thing she _does_ know how to do. It's reassuring, taking a track and putting the effects on it, running it this way and that way through Pro Tools, cutting and layering and turning it into exactly what she wants. She's going to be really fucking good at this. She's already getting there.

She likes doing things she's good at. She's good at making out. She's good at stupid silly messing-around sex. There are indications that she'll be good at rushing-home-out-of-the-club sex, once she gets another six months or so under her heels.

Potentially kinky sex with older, experienced people is on a whole different level. She might not be good at that at all. And if she embarrasses herself in front of Alicia and Mikey, this whole illusion of being part of the rock-star club for real is going to come tumbling down around her in pieces.

She runs her own vocals through effects so many times that it just sounds like the wailing of a robot in pain. She doesn't like failing.

But she didn't get where she is by sitting still and not taking chances when they go by.

**

"So," Alicia says, topping off Bebe's glass of wine.

Bebe looks up, blinking. "What?"

"Those handcuffs you had as part of your stage getup for a while. Were those an affectation or an inclination?"

"She's been practicing that line for days," Mikey murmurs over his glass. "Please be impressed."

"Watch it or you're going to get a not-fun spanking, Michael James."

Bebe forces herself to take a breath and swallow slowly so she doesn't choke. "Um, about that."

They turn to look at her in unison. "You definitely don't have to see any of that," Mikey says quickly. "I mean, we'd never push that on somebody. Totally against all applicable ethics and guidelines."

"I know," Bebe says quickly, "I get that, it's not a problem. Really. I mean..."

Alicia gets it first, her eyes lighting up and a grin spreading across her face. "You're _intrigued_. Not entirely an affectation after all."

"Reel it in," Mikey says, taking another sip of wine. He looks pretty damn excited, too. "Be cool, Alicia, we are supposed to be the jaded old swingers in this situation."

"You mean like your parents?"

He winces and covers his mouth with his hand. "Goddamn it."

 _And go_ , Bebe thinks, drawing in her breath against a wave of the same dizzy anticipation she felt when she walked into the studio with Pete for the firs ttime. "I'm intrigued."

"I'm not anymore," Mikey mutters. "Throwing my parents' sex life in my face is the original bonerkiller."

Bebe squares her shoulders and shakes her hair back out of her face. "Then I guess Alicia and I will start without you."

Alicia's eyebrows go up, but Bebe's moving before she can talk. She crosses over to straddle Alicia's lap in her chair, meeting her eyes for just an instant before closing her own and catching Alicia's mouth in a kiss.

Alicia's hands settle on her waist, thumbs pressing tight against her hips. "Wow." Her fingers skate up under Bebe's t-shirt, tracing over her torso and back down. "This is a surprise."

Bebe's face feels hot and flushed enough that she knows she probably looks stupid. Alicia and Mikey aren't looking at her like she does, but she can _tell_. "It doesn't suck, though, right?"

"Uh, no." Alicia laughs and leans in to kiss her again, her tongue sliding past Bebe's lips. Bebe's knees tighten against Alicia's thighs, all of her muscles tensing up together in reaction. Crap. This is as good as she thought maybe it might be, and that means she's really committed, and she doesn't really know what to do from here.

"We could go in the bedroom." Mikey's voice is a little shock of reality. "I mean, it's got to be more comfortable than that chair. And, like. I could see better. If that's cool."

"I thought you weren't interested," Alicia says, looking over Bebe's shoulder. Bebe turns to look at him, too, shifting her weight to keep her balance in Alicia's lap.

"You were bonerkilled," Bebe says. "Which is sad."

"I have special powers of reboot and recovery. Especially when pretty girls are into each other. And me. And you're both into me. I hope. That hasn't changed, right?"

Alicia laughs, resting her forehead on Bebe's shoulder and tightening her hands on Bebe's waist to keep her from listing off to the side and onto the floor. "No, babe. That hasn't changed."

"Bebe?"

She waves a vague thumbs-up at him, her other hand clutching at Alicia's hair for balance. "You're still good."

"Then can we please go in the bedroom before you two fall over and hurt yourselves?"

"Reasonable." Alicia presses a quick kiss to the base of Bebe's throat, just above her breasts--and Bebe is _aware_ of that, very aware, and it's excellent that Alicia is taking initiative so she doesn't have to figure stuff out on the run quite so much--and then gently eases her down onto her feet. "Follow the man. He'll give you a guided tour to the bedroom."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I'm going to lock the goddamn cats up so they don't sit at the foot of the bed and stare."

"It's creepy," Mikey says.

"We're used to creepy," Alicia adds, "but there's no reason to inflict that on you immediately."

Bebe nods. "No creepy and no bondage."

Mikey takes her hand. "Not today."

**

Mikey and Alicia have a very big bed. With very study bedposts, probably for tying each other to.

That's a distracting thought, but not as distracting as watching Mikey take his clothes off.

She tries not to stare, poking at the sheets while he slides his jeans down off his hips. "Are these percale?"

"I have no idea." He sits down on the edge of the bed, close enough that she has to look at the fact that he's wearing purple boxer-briefs and black socks. "Are you sure you're cool? You look kind of freaked out. We can play MarioKart instead."

"I think maybe I need to do less talking about how I feel and more making out."

"Oh!" He nods and reaches out, curving his fingers against her cheek carefully. "That's sweet. We can do that. And, like. If you _do_ decide you need a break or--"

"For the love of God, Way," comes Alicia's voice from the doorway. "Kiss her before she punches you."

Bebe wasn't actually planning to punch--maybe grabbing his hair and yanking him in, though--but luckily Mikey is good at following instructions. He moves in close, guiding her backward to the bed and bracing himself over her while they kiss.

She can hear Alicia moving around the bed, the slide of a zipper, the whisper of fabric hitting the floor, and then the mattress shifts under her weight. "Gorgeous," Alicia says softly, and fingers comb through Bebe's hair, tugging it back off her face. Mikey turns his attention to the skin exposed, mouthing slowly up her jawline to beneath her ear and then down the sensitive skin of her neck, teasing out the places that make her shiver.

"You two are like a painting." Alicia's voice is low and husky. She combs through Bebe's hair again, twisting it up above her head, then lets it fall down around her in a halo. "Dark and light. Tiny-delicate and..."

"Totally crazy-masculine." Mikey shifts back, nuzzling along the neckline of Bebe's top.

"Yeah, babe. Super-butch." Alicia leans in and kisses Bebe upside-down. It's easy to get lost in that, bumping noses and giggling until they find the angle while Mikey works his way methodically down her chest and stomach, pushing her top up out of the way and scattering light kisses along the waistband of her skirt. His stubble scratches against her, making her huff sharply into Alicia's mouth, and then he scrapes his teeth over the skin, not quite biting but just enough pressure to make her gasp in surprise and kick out.

"Not the face," Alicia scolds, kissing her again. "That's his moneymaker."

"Don't listen to her." Mikey slides his hands up the backs of Bebe's thighs, his palms broad and warm as he guides her legs apart and catches the waist of her panties. "She's awful."

Bebe shakes her head and lifts her hips off the bed so he can guide her underwear down. "She's okay."

"Girls teaming up against me." He leans in and breathes against her. "Figures."

"You can pull his hair if you want," Alicia says, but even as she says it she's catching Bebe's hands with her own and lacing their fingers together. "You can also tell him to quit teasing and get on with it."

Bebe shakes her head, taking as deep a breath as she can manage while Mikey opens her up and licks a slow line all the way up her inner skin. "I'm not really into being bossy like that?"

"That's cool." Alicia squeezes her hands lightly and leans down to kiss her neck, her hair falling down around them both like a veil. "But it's fun if you ever want to try it."

"I like feedback," Mikey says. Bebe can't control the sharp jerk of her hips as he follows the words with another slow lick. "Lets me optimize my performance."

"Nerd alert," Alicia mutters against Bebe's throat, and they both giggle helplessly for a minute, until Bebe's breath hitches and she bites her lip against a whimper. Alicia grips her hands tightly, not quite holding her down but giving her pressure to brace against while Mikey settles into a rhythm, alternating between licking into her and sucking at her clit, his fingers rubbing slow, teasing circles on her thighs.

She's keyed up and on-edge and it was really good wine, earlier; the combined effect is that it doesn't seem to take very long before she's taking shaky breaths from Alicia's mouth, her feet tensing against the bed and her thighs shaking as she comes. Mikey pulls back slowly, placing light kisses against her thigh, and she works one hand free from Alicia's to reach for him as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

He moves up and kisses her, his lips hot and slick. "Fucking gorgeous," he says, the crooked edge of his teeth catching her lip. "Thank you."

She laughs, feeling heat rush to her face and trying to turn away from both of them, hiding behind her hair. "You're thanking _me_?"

"Yeah." He rubs his hand against her hip, making her shiver a little, then more as Alicia's fingers lace with his and they're both touching her, smiling at her. "You're amazing."

"Well. Um. Thank you. I mean, you're welcome. Or whatever. Both." She laughs again and covers her face with her hands, willing the blushing to die down. "Um. Now what?"

"You want to relax a minute?" Alicia's voice is low and hot, but kind. "Just watch?"

Bebe nods without moving her hands. "I think that would be good."

By the time she composes herself to look again, Mikey is stretched out on his back, his hands above his head, fingers wrapped around the bars of the headboard. His mouth is set in a solemn line, his brow furrowed, and for a minute Bebe's confused, wondering if something's gone wrong.

Then she looks down to where Alicia is kneeling between his legs. She _is_ smiling, face lit up, eyes wicked. Her hands are rubbing up and down Mikey's thighs, slow and teasing, and Bebe realizes that Mikey isn't afraid or uncomfortable; he's just trying to keep his control and wait.

"Fuck, Mikey," Alicia says, and he nods, a jerky little motion that's echoed by a twitch of his cock, curved up against his stomach. Alicia traces one finger down the underside of it, tapping her nail against the base, and Mikey shudders hard, his breath catching and his fingers scrambling against the bars.

"Easy," Alicia says, almost crooning, "easy, easy..." She lowers her head, hair sweeping down over her face again, and Bebe almost falls off the bed as Mikey shouts in pain.

Alicia lifts her head again and licks her lips; Bebe half-expects to see blood. "Don't be such a baby. I barely touched you."

"F-fuck," Mikey mutters, his teeth clenched, and Bebe can't help but lean forward, her head near Alicia's so she can see the circle of red skin on Mikey's inner thigh, a darker ring of indents inside it.

"You bit him?"

"Mm. Barely." Alicia shakes her hair back out of her face and takes a breath, then ducks down again and sets her teeth against his other thigh. She hangs on this time even after he cries out, his free leg bending sharply at the knee, his foot twisting against the sheets. Bebe moves without thinking, crawling up the bed to kneel awkwardly on the pillows beside Mikey's head. It's a better view, and she can take Mikey's hands in hers, disentangling them from the headboard and gripping them tightly the same way Alicia did for her.

Alicia bites him a few more times, hard and deep enough that the bruises seem to be blossoming right before Bebe's eyes. Mikey's eyes are bright with tears, his teeth clenched against sounds that are just low, desperate moans now. Bebe's hands hurt where his fingers are laced with hers; guitarist hands, broad and bony and strong. Bebe's going to have to make him let go if Alicia keeps this up much longer.

She doesn't; she sits up and reaches for his dick, wrapping her hand around it and stroking him a few times until he's coaxed back to full hardness. "So fucking gorgeous, baby," she says, her voice even more raw and throaty now than when they began. "God, I can't believe you."

"Please." He arches up off the bed and Alicia shifts her hand on his dick, leaning down to kiss the head gently. "C'mon, Licia, please."

"Okay. Since you've been so good. And I think Bebe wants to see." Alicia shoots Bebe a quick grin, dirty and crooked, then raises herself up on her knees and guides Mikey against her, inside her. She sinks down slowly and braces herself over him, looking down into his eyes for a beat before she starts to move.

"Fuck," Mikey whispers. "Fuck, fuck." He squeezes Bebe's hands again, gently this time, and she looks at him, suddenly aware that her mouth is open and she feels hot, flushed, stupid. She probably looks ridiculous. He doesn't seem to think so, though; he eases one hand free and reaches up to cup it against the back of her head. He guides her down to kiss him, deep and hot, while Alicia moves over him in a hungry rhythm.

Bebe loses track of time a little, but it's pretty easy to tell when they've both come. Alicia slumps down against Mikey's chest and he wraps his arm around her, that hand stroking her side while the other keeps holding Bebe's hand tight, not letting her move away. "Lie down," he says, glancing up at her as best he can with Alicia's hair falling over his eyes. "Stay a little longer."

"We have ice cream," Alicia mumbles against his shoulder.

"Okay," Bebe whispers, shifting onto her side and stretching out her legs, unable to look away even as they both close their eyes. "In that case."

**

She borrows a scarf from Alicia to wear to the studio the next day. "That is such a cliche," Pete says when she walks through the door. "Also I know exactly how much Alicia likes biting. Let me see."

"Shut up."

"Come on, let me see. Come on. I'll tell Spencer if you don't."

"You're such a jerk." But she unwinds the scarf, blushing and lifting her chin in challenge as he circles around her to look at the love bites from all angles.

"She got you good."

"He helped."

Pete rolls his eyes and reaches out to trace his fingers over the bruised skin. She flinches back a little and he puts his hands up in surrender. "You had fun?"

"Yeah." She wraps the scarf around her neck again, tossing the end back over her shoulder. "We had ice cream."

"Awesome." He bounces on his toes a little, his eyes suddenly unfocused, distracted. "Awesome." He turns and wanders over to his computer. "You think you'll do it again?"

"Yeah. I think so." Her breath feels a little too tight in her chest. She can't tell if he approves or not, and while she doesn't _care_ , exactly, it's throwing her. "Pete..."

"I bet of all the stuff you thought you'd get from being in a band with me, this was not on the list."

She doesn't know how to respond to that at all for a minute, until he glances back over his shoulder at her and she realizes that he's smiling.

"No," she says, smiling back and drawing a deep breath again. "You ass. No, I didn't."

"I told you I was going to change your world, B."

"Whatever. God. Show me some beats."

"Hold on, we've gotta wait for Spence." His phone chirps and he heads into the hallway to take it, waving at her to stay away from the laptop as he goes. She rolls her eyes and flops down on the couch, covering her face with her hands. She knows she's blushing again, bright bright red. Goddamn it.

Her own phone buzzes, the quick rhythm of a text, and she drags it out of her pocket. Alicia, a message with a photo attached. _You left something here babe_. She frowns and opens the picture, trying to think of what it might be.

Her underwear, held up to the camera in Alicia and Mikey's joined hands, with Mikey's free hand helpfully offering a thumbs-up off to one side. Bebe squawks, closing the picture fast even though she's alone in the room. For fuck's sake. If her underwear is there, then she must be wearing Alicia's, and that's just...

Well. It's hot, for one thing. And it was probably orchestrated, which means she needs to do some plotting about how to get back at them.

The phone buzzes again, this time with Mikey's number. _I guess you've gotta come back tonight. :)_

 _Count on it_ , she sends back. _I'm ready._  



End file.
